


Make Me

by Nevcolleil



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, irredeemably so I'm afraid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 02:08:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21291881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/pseuds/Nevcolleil
Summary: “Make me.”That’s what does it.Don’t seem like much... Or won’t, outsida this moment.Not enough, certainly, to explain how it’s come to this - to Jack losing his cool, losing his control, and giving Nick exactly the sorta reaction Jack’s imagined the other man’s been angling for.
Relationships: Jack Dalton/Nick Stokes
Comments: 15
Kudos: 20





	Make Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is for deltajackdalton who sent me the prompt 'Make Me' on Tumblr. Thank you, dear, for getting my Muse going :) So sorry (and not sorry) that all my Muse was interested in doing with this was porn :p

“Make me.”

That’s what does it.

Don’t seem like much... Or won’t, outsida this moment.

Not enough, certainly, to explain how it’s come to this - to Jack losing his cool, losing his control, and giving Nick exactly the sorta reaction Jack’s imagined the other man’s been angling for.

Jack has a sort of sense for people who wanna get their asses kicked... It’s been driving him kind of crazy, because he knows Nick loves him. He _knows_ that.

(He tries to know that.)

(He’s got issues. Mac and Riley are helping him work on them.)

And what Jack feels for Nick...

Well. This moment may not do the truth of it any favors, but Jack doesn’t think he’s ever loved a man - loved anyone - the way he loves Nick Stokes. And he _knows_ (_really_ knows) that he’ll never love anyone this much again. He just.

Jack has a _sense_ for when a man wants his ass kicked... And it’s been tingling like crazy ever since he and Nick had that stupid fight, over a week ago. 

Over a stupid thing - Jack realizes that. He knows he needs to apologize for that. For giving a guy a hard time over taking “unnecessary” risks out in the field... _Him_ giving somebody a hard time over taking risks... yeah. Like he’s said - _stupid_.

But Nick’s had such a... such a _stick_ up his butt all week over it (and none of _Jack’s_ “stick” up his butt, which woulda been much more fun for the both of them) that Jack’s never had the chance.

And now Nick’s gone and got Jack’s senses tingling one time too many.

“Make me,” he’s said, eyes narrowed. Nostrils flared. Face flushed and leaning in towards Jack.

“What did you say?” Jack says sharply, breathing in quick, short breaths. It’s taken everything in him thus far to not let this shouting match that’s sprouted up between them like fucking magic - from nothing to a real _something_ in no time flat - not get any worse. His fists are actually curled at his sides like he might- But he’d never-

“I _said_...” Nick says, voice low and rough and serious. (‘_Hot_’ Jack will be able to acknowledge later. Maybe even ‘a little scary’... which just means ‘even hotter’ to Jack. But right now Jack’s a little distracted.) “...fucking _make me_.” And Nick pokes a finger, hard, into Jack’s chest.

Jack’s next, more obvious huff of breath isn’t a huff of indignation.

It’s the dust thrown up when a heavy load hits the ground.

Or when the weight of self-control slips off of a man’s shoulders for just a sec.

Jack doesn’t even consciously do it, which is the thing that scares him most in that second. He tries to breathe out his frustration and anger and helpless remorse - and instead he just makes that huff, and the next thing you know he’s got Nick pinned against the wall that had been a few steps behind them, face to it, Jack pressed hard up against his back.

The arm that Nick had reached out towards Jack is pinned between them, the hand with the finger that had poked Jack clenched in Jack’s unforgiving grip.

Jack’s other arm is looped around Nick’s front, an iron band around his chest (a buffer, for when Jack’d shoved Nick into the wall, so that the impact wasn’t actually between the wall and Nick.)

Jack’s never so much as play-shoved Nick before.

He’s certainly never put the full force of his anything into anything physical between them. They both know what Jack does for a living - what he’s done. No way would Jack ever _consciously_ remind Nick while they’re alone together.

Jack freezes stone-still and his hands, gone numb, go completely lax.

“_No_!” Nick huffs out himself, sounding breathless and urgent - almost panicked - and Jack’s stomach lurches so suddenly he feels legitimately ill.

But Nick isn’t _rejecting_ Jack, surprisingly - inexplicably.

Just the opposite.

“Don’t you back down now, you bastard,” Nick just about barks, although his voice is kind of quiet. Like he can’t quite believe what he’s saying himself. Or...

Like he’s worried how Jack will react to him saying it.

The skin at the back of Nick’s neck is flushed. Nick flushes with his whole face when he’s angry or upset... but the color never reaches all the way down his neck - not unless he’s feeling something very different instead.

Nick bucks backwards into Jack, and the same note of disappointment - and what Jack now suddenly recognizes as fear - that’s been slipping into Nick’s voice all week seeps into his slightly less confident demand.

“Don’t you act like I can’t take it. Don’t you do that. You-”

Jack presses his lips to the nape of Nick’s neck, shuddering so hard in relief... in _gratitude_-

Nick is shaking too.

His voice wavers as he starts again, sharper, “_Don’t-_”

One more kiss...

And then it’s the matter of where to grip, how to twist, and Jack knows just how to put a man about his same height - maybe a little more solid in the hips and thighs, a hair’s breath broader in the shoulders - right where he wants him.

He’s flipped Nick around, got him pressed back-to-wall now, wedged a knee between those denim-clad thighs he’s just admired, and more or less pinned Nick’s arms at his sides. Nick’s arms aren’t skinny - thick and firm with muscle; he could break Jack’s hold if he put up a little fight.

Instead he stares at Jack, breath fast and heavy with something other than the exertion he’s _not_ putting into breaking away.

Jack’s got to wonder if the heat he feels staring back into those pretty brown eyes is shining out of his own dark gaze, or if his face’s gone stark and cold the way he knows it does in real combat. Not ‘cause he’s feeling anything approaching icy with the man he loves in his grasp - just because muscle memory’s a thing, in the face as sure as anywhere. 

Whatever Nick sees in Jack’s gaze...

He likes it.

Jack watches Nick’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows, lips Jack’s kissed red and swollen more than a few times part and that sweet tongue Jack’s sucked until Nick’s whined for more peaks out for a split second.

Had Nick’s voice gone low and rough before? Jack’s own words sound like they’ve rattled their way through a meat grinder as he says, “Hoss, you don’t have a single idea just what you’re asking me for.” It’s a kind of warning.

Something sparks in Nick’s eyes - shows itself in the shape of Nick’s lips - like he’s taken the words as a promise.

“I want whatever you can give me, _hoss_,” Nick says, exaggerating the drawl on Jack’s own endearment, the way he does sometimes when he’s teasing Jack about his pet names.

But combined with the tilt of that sharp jaw... the glint in Nick’s eyes?

Jack’s _sure_ Nick’s gotta see a predator in the grin that splits his face at that - more of a showing of teeth, really. Jack surely feels like something hungry - with its eyes on just what it knows will sate its appetite.

There’s fear racing through his own veins as he thinks about it.

But the nervous bob of Nick’s adam’s apple, the brief reappearance of that tongue, don’t accompany any expression of Nick having changed his mind. Instead, his almost pretty lashes drop a little as his gaze on Jack goes half-lidded. His arms flex underneath Jack’s hard grip, but not like he’s testing if he can break free - like he’s just reminding himself he’d have to flex a little to break free if he wanted to. Nick’s breathing gets even more excited once he has.

The fear fades, becomes something different - something heady.

The feeling of freedom. Of being accepted - wanted, even - for _real_. Not just for what he knows to show of himself to someone he doesn’t want seeing something they might really not like.

Jack slowly slides his hands down Nick’s arms... til he reaches the other man’s wrists, and then quick as he can he raises and pins them to either side of Nick’s head in a vice-like grip.

“Well, alright then... Can’t say I didn’t warn ya’.”

“I don’t need any wa-”

Jack cuts him off with a kiss like he’s clearing the room - in fast and hard and thorough, tongue sweeping Nick’s mouth like it’s job won’t be done til there’s no breath left in its wake.

Simultaneously, Jack moves the thigh he’s got between both of Nick’s, providing friction for the rock-hard cock he can feel straining against the front of Nick’s jeans.

His movements are like Jack himself when he _does_ clear a room. Blunt. No-nonsense. Focused on the mission.

In this case... on absolutely wrecking his man in the best possible way.

Nick makes a sound deep in his throat Jack doesn’t think he’s ever heard before and the heady feeling intensifies so sharply, Jack feels like _he’s_ the one who’s had the breath chased out of him.

He manages somehow not to sound it.

“Damn, baby,” he rasps against Nick’s parted lips. “You’re so fucking hard for me right now... And that’s how you want it, huh? Hard? I can give it to you hard, darlin’.”

“_Fuck, yeah_,” Nick barely breathes, and Jack’s moving before the words are even fully out of his mouth.

Jack tugs Nick off the wall by his wrists and spins him, grabbing him by the hips and walking him roughly the few steps needed to bend him brusquely over the back of the couch.

In fact, his ‘yeah’ sounds more like it’s been punched out of him than spoken. 

Jack bends himself over the couch as well, over Nick, his own hard cock pressing against that perfect ass through their layers of denim, to bite - carefully, but with more force than Jack would have dared before - at the back of Nick’s neck and listen to Nick moan in response.

“Just you wait here like this for me, just like this, til I got you nice and ready for me.”

“I don’t n-need much-”

Jack bites again, _harder_, and while Nick is still moaning stands quickly, reaching around Nick to unbutton and unzip him perfunctorily. He shoves Nick’s jeans and shorts down to his knees without an ounce of finesse.

Nick remains fully bent over the back of the couch, and on a little bit more than a whim - those senses of Jack’s giving him a moment’s inspiration - he sinks his fingers into Nick’s hair and curls his fingers, urging Nick to rise back up enough that he can nibble at Nick’s ear.

His instincts serve them well. Nick makes an approximation of that unprecedented sound he’d made before - again - making Jack’s cock twitch inside his jeans.

“Did you or did you not say you wanted _anything_ I can give you? Huh?” Jack demands, but then continues before Nick can answer. “_Anything_ means this too if I say it does, got me?”

“Fuck. Jack-”

Jack pushes Nick back down.

“Spread ‘em, Nicky,” Jack says in another way, “and let me worry about how much, alright?”

“Yeah. Alright. Fuck, whatever. Just-”

Jack doesn’t wait to hear ‘just’ what. He fetches the lube from their bedroom faster than he’s ever traveled the length of their place, he’s sure.

Then he follows those instincts of his one more time and does something he’s never done with Nick before, besides the getting rough.

He drops to his knees and runs his hands up Nick’s firm calves, his quivering thighs.

Nick only catches on once Jack’s taken either globe of Nick’s perky ass in a hand and spread the man before him. 

Then he jolts like Jack’s attached a live wire to him - to his credit, without so much as half-rising out of the position Jack pushed him into.

“_Jack_. What the hell are-”

“Exactly what you think I’m doin’, Nicky. ‘m gettin’ you ready for me, remember?”

“_Oh god_... are you fucking kidd-”

“Shush and let me,” Jack gambles by saying. Then he dives into licking and tonguing Nick’s quivering hole with the same mission-oriented boldness he’d dived into Nick’s mouth with earlier.

His gamble pays off once more. 

Nick _falls to pieces_.

He all but comes apart - almost literally. Moaning, whining... babbling, honestly, various combinations of Jack’s name, pleas and curse words so colorful, Jack’s mama’d whip him to this day for thinking a curse word even half so naughty. 

By the time Jack’s used his lubed up fingers and his tongue to ready Nick like he’d promised, he’s ready to curse himself, hands shaking as he drops his jeans and shorts. It’s such a relief to feel skin against his cock as he presses against the cleft of Nick’s ass, that Jack could just about weep with it.

Instead, he sinks a hand into Nick’s hair again, just to hear another sweet moan mark his movements, and with the other he rearranges Nick’s arms til they’re spread across the back of the couch to either side of him.

“Now, hold on, baby, and I’ll give you what you asked for,” Jack breathes into his ear before pressing a light kiss there.

As if the mention of it was needed to remind Nick just what that was, Nick’s latest moan subsides, and he says sharply, “_Fuck, yeah_. Come on, Jackie. I’m so fucking, ready, man. Make me feel it.”

Jack grips Nick’s hips, lines the head of his cock up with the entrance his own body’s been begging him to get inside of already.

“Oh, you will,” he promises at last, into the skin between Nick’s muscular shoulder blades, where he’s pressed his face... right before he buries himself in Nick’s sweet, willing body with one powerful thrust that would have seemed brutal if Jack hadn’t spent so much care opening Nick up and making him so slick first. 

Still Nick curses. “Holy fucking-”

But Jack doesn’t wait for him to so much as comment - doesn’t give him any more time to adjust. He steels himself and then sets a piston-like pace of absolutely unforgiving thrusts that sheath his cock inside of Nick again and again, dragging bluntly across that sensitive bundle of nerves that always makes Nick’s toes curl and his eyelashes flutter with every single pass.

The way Nick’s body grasps him throughout is such exquisite pleasure, there are a fair share of little whines and whimpers among the groans that punch out of Jack steadily as he pounds into Nick - but Nick’s voice breaks before Jack can. And the babbling that had begun again devolves into nearly sob-like, hitched exclamations.

“Jack! Oh, fuck! Of fuck, Jackie, I can’t- _I can’t_-” Nick’s hands clench and unclench, broadcasting the temptation to touch himself and seek a faster (less shattering) end than the one Jack has made clear he intends to drag out of him.

“Fuck, yeah, you can,” Jack just growls, letting go of Nick’s hips and grabbing quick for Nick’s wrists, pinning them where they are before Nick can give into that temptation, and Nick cries out like he’s been stuck.

That’s almost more than _Jack_ can take, and he pours everything he has into making the last few thrusts he has in him the hardest, fastest yet.

“You can come for me just from my cock,” he insists. “C’mon, Nicky... Show me you can.”

And - with one more sharp cry - Nick does.

Jack lets himself go and comes a split second later, grinding into Nick as he rides out their shared orgasm to its very end - Nick’s body fluttering around him and clenching down on him for a ridiculously drawn out amount of time, wringing sounds from Jack every bit as wrecked as the ones still drifting out of Nick.

Their harsh, panting breaths and pounding hearts settle and quiet together for some time.

When Jack speaks, it’s with his face still pressed into Nick’s back. His words come out a little slurred, with the way his mouth is smashed against Nick’s skin, but honestly Jack’s proud he’s remained conscious after coming as hard as he just has. He can’t be bothered to move even his head enough to sound clearer. 

“Ya know,” he says. “You coulda just tol’ me I was bein’ stupid an’ asked me to fuck you harder ta make up for it a week ago.” Although of course it’s not that simple.

Because Jack _is_ stupid sometimes, about things like this. (Again: he’s working on it.) 

But Nick just chuckles.

His face must be just as smooshed into the couch cushions as Jack’s face is into Nick’s back, because his words sound funny too as he says, “Naw... This ‘as more fun.”

Jack laughs with him.

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies for (probably the m)any mistakes in this. I finished it up late at night, but I needed to exorcise this fully from my brain so I could sleep.


End file.
